


Cape Cod

by Enchanter_101



Category: Original Work
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-22
Updated: 2019-10-22
Packaged: 2020-12-28 00:24:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,027
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21127748
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Enchanter_101/pseuds/Enchanter_101
Summary: Cape Cod is one of the most mentally, and spiritually healing places in the world for me. I hope you can get the same peace I feel going there by reading this.





	Cape Cod

Splitting down the center, one clinging to the continent, the other held on by only a few old bridges, rocks towering above the canal, placed by cranes that are long gone. Reaching out to the sea, these boulders loosen, but remain unmoved, even as the sea lashes them. The span of water sees many things, whether a cruise ship that takes up the entire canal, or tiny tug boats bobbing along to help. But that is not where I am. I stand on the path, built above the rocks, on the side that is ready to be unleashed into the sea, but is only held by simple bridges.   
This place only exists at night, the sun would burn it away like a fog, a cold wind slams into the island with each wave. That same wind carried the ashes of the woman who made it home, far from the place we lay them. Our voices should carry, but the sea swallows them. Fishermen risk the climb down the rocks to see if the fish are still hungry after the sunset wave of tourists who fished from the safety of a pier.   
If you’re lucky, and it’s unlucky, you may see a whale, making a dangerous attempt to swim the canal. Questions to the man who always brings me back, he quells my curiosity with facts about the canal that runs nearly straight through the Cape. My hair is in a ponytail, tangled and rough, crusted with salt from my day in the ocean. My shirt chaffes the sunburn that reddens my neck, back, and shoulders.  
The sun doesn’t touch here while I watch. I always see the other side, filled with soft, clean sand. This side is filled with pebbles, not yet broken down by the waves. Still tasting the salt, trying to use it to become bigger. Only to be foiled by another crashing wave. The constant ebb and flow of the waves becomes white noise, the illusion is only broken by street lamps casting a yellow glow to battle the moon. Looking back, lights sit in the sky, pretending to be stars. Outlining the bridge that keeps the island from breaking away.  
Sand sticks to everything, the bottoms of our feet are rubbed smooth by it. It will be found in new places for weeks to come. The truck rumbles to life as exhaustion settles deep in our soul. Five, maybe ten minutes pass before the truck lurches back as the brake is released and silence settles over the vehicle. Exiting the truck only to stumble to our beds, not yet made. A mistake we always make and always regret.   
No matter how tired I am, I can’t sleep. The sound of voices and the shadows thrown by a crackling fire keeps me awake until I realize I must have fallen asleep because it’s morning. Another has join us, the first of the three generations. Fresh caught seafood covers the table, shrimp and lobster. Breakfast is leftover open fire pizza. It’s colder today, rain hovering on the horizon. I lead the youngest of us in a walk around the campground. Getting lost is easy, but so it finding my way back, even in the dark.  
When it does rain. I make up on lost sleep, they tell stories, I bundle up. Ocean rain comes with cold breezes. Time passes quickly, never a bored moment. The stone that sits around my neck has never experienced this time, but it still holds all the memories and everything about this place. Smoothed by the sea and time. Found by someone who loves the sea. Bought by someone who loves the sea. Given to someone who loves the sea.  
“There is no magic, there is no mystical being here, just a love for the wild whipping of the ocean against boulders that stand in its path. Lights guiding ships and misleading whales. Cold winds, smelling of salt and crusting my hair. Crabs and starfish found in between the boulders along with small fish and other wonders. A sense of home even though I’m hours away. Seafood caught that day. Rain that beats the campers, lulling me to sleep. Waking up to sunshine, ready to re-aggravate my sunburn again. Ready to crust my hair in salt and drink more seawater than I anticipated. “  
One last day, packing and cleaning up early. Dragging my feet, ready to leave, but not wanting to. Disappointment fills me as my leaving tradition can no longer be fulfilled. The building something entirely new. Hours of a nauseating car ride ahead of me. I doze, body drooping with exhaustion, no energy left. Trudging through hot sand and swimming against the rush of waves leaves me as jelly.   
Arriving home is a relief, but an empty one. Hauling my stuff inside is tiring and collapsing on my bed is a heaven send. As sleep over takes me, I dream again of rolling waves and water that shifts between blue and gray. I walk along the wave breaks and feel the tug on my fishing pole. I eat to much shrimp and listen to stories, planning my next visit. I laugh as I brush sand free only for more to take its place. I think of the one time friends I made, never to see them again so I forget in my dreams.  
The same campsite, the same path, the same ocean waits for me, each time I go back. Years sometimes go between my visits but each time is like being welcomed home. Nothing could replace the moment I smell the salt air and the rush of excitement and joy hits me. I bounce in my seat, giddy even though the trip still has quite a bit of time left. The roar of the waves is like a hello. Everything feels right and I feel reset. My slate wiped clean.   
“No words can do justice to Cape Cod. My grandfather brought my father who brought me and my brother. My grandmother’s ashes were spread there. On the edge of the canal. She is the one who greets us each time we arrive. I try to visit often.”


End file.
